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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28847505">High Hopes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverraindrop/pseuds/abreathaway'>abreathaway (silverraindrop)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Sexual Assault, F/M, Owen is an idiot but he loves her, Smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:28:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,936</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28847505</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverraindrop/pseuds/abreathaway</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He turns back to her at the door, throwing her a lopsided smile that she thinks looks awfully like a smirk, but she thinks maybe he didn't intend it to. Maybe it was a mistake.</p><p> </p><p>But now she's alone in a dingy bathroom, with her latest mistake dripping down her thigh. It tickles at her skin, and her chest closes up at the sensation. </p><p>X</p><p>Michelle and Owen have sex in the bathroom at the bar, it does not go well, and he needs to make it up to her.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Michelle Blake/Owen Strand</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>High Hopes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written in collaboration with ana122892 on tumblr.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Owen can't keep his eyes off the column of her neck as she throws back yet another shot of Tequila. She coaxes his down his throat with a grin. "There we go!" She giggles. "Can't have you falling behind." Her eyes are dark and glistening, her face flushed. Her grin widens even further as the music changes. "I love this song!" She exclaims, dragging him from the bar into the middle of the floor. "Dance with me." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn't give him much choice, pulling him close and swaying him with the music. It doesn't take long until he is pleasantly wrapped up in it all. The tequila, the music, Michelle. And he is dancing along with her. His hands drop to her hips as she turns her back to him, pressing herself against his front. The sweet apple scent of her hair invades his senses, and he can't help but lean into it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She giggles softly as his breath tickles her ear, instinctively leaning towards him. He nuzzles into her ever so slightly, and she thinks she can hear him breathe, even over the music. His hands tighten on her hips and they nearly stop moving when his lips ghost along the side of her neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hey guys." Paul nudges Marjan. "Guys you wanna see this." He directs the group's attention to the dancefloor. And more specifically the captains in the middle of it. "I think our Captains have had a little too much to drink." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh wow." Marjan's eyes widen as she sets them on the pair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"They are gonna regret that in the morning." Matteo grins."We should do something right?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Nah probie, they're just having fun don't worry about it." Judd claps him on the shoulder, watching Owen and Michelle intently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He's right, we should do something. " Marjan looks around the men, who are all very focused on the dancefloor. She watches as they all take a drink. "Like stop them?" She looks at Nancy for backup, who gives a nod, cocking her head towards the dart board in the corner. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Owen's hand traces up her side lightly, sending a shiver through her body. It comes to rest on her shoulder, his fingers nudging the loose fabric of her sleeve until it moves down her arm, exposing her shoulder. He trails a series of light kisses along the back of her neck, giving a soft nip to her pulse point. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You know what?" Paul starts. "Maybe we should stop them before Carlos has to arrest them for indecent behaviour." </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>"TK!" Marjan calls, making her way towards TK and Carlos. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"TK!" Marjan finally gets his attention. "You gotta help us." TK finally releases himself from Carlos's arm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Your dad and Captain Blake are…." Nancy struggles to find the word. "Dancing." She grabs TK's arm as he starts to retreat back to Carlos. "You gotta stop them doing something they'll regret."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>TK rolls his eyes, cursing his father's bad habits. "Damn it. I'll take care of my dad. Carlos you take care of Michelle."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they return to the table, however, Michelle and Owen are nowhere to be seen. "Where did they go?" Marjan questions and TK groans. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don't worry about it." Judd waves them off. "Better they leave than finish it on the dance floor."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Locking the door with one hand, Owen presses her against it, pinning her in place as his lips latch onto her neck. She whines in his ear as he sucks at her pulse point, just hard enough to send a jolt through her spine, urging his hands downwards. His hands grasp the fabric of her dress, bunching it between his fingers as she fumbles for the hem of his tshirt, slipping her hands underneath. She moves her hands downwards when she feels his on her thighs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She struggles with his buckle. His hands and mouth on her rendering her every move desperate and fumbling. Her head spins as she sends Owen a wink, sliding to her knees on the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hand flies to her head as she takes him in her mouth, fingernails scratching at her scalp as he grasps her hair. She can't help but chuckle when he groans out a curse, causing his hips to jolt forwards.  She lays her hands on his thighs, steadying him as he pulls on her hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She can feel him begin to tremble before he pulls her up, immediately ducking his head to focus on her dress, sliding the zip down her back. He tugs the front down just enough to reveal her bra, and he trails a finger over the top of it slowly, before kneading one breast in his hand. He mutters asently. "Nice ones Blake." She chuckles slightly, turning into a gasp as he pinches her nipple through the fabric, before his hands move to her skirt, bunching it up to her hips. He runs a finger over her briefly, before tugging her panties down her thighs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They catch on her boots as she attempts to step out of them, eventually being kicked aside by Owen,  who grips her thighs tightly, spreading them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wastes no time slipping a finger into her, and then another, and she winces at the intrusion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He seems to take her whimper as encouragement, letting out a groan and quickening his pace. She pushes herself firmly into the wall, screwing her eyes shut as he continues. She barely has time to relax into it before his fingers are removed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stings as he enters her, letting out a small cry as he stretches her roughly. She clings to his shoulders as her back spasms against him, and a shiver slides down her spine at the groan he breathes into her ear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He falters slightly as she digs her nails into his back, slowing his pace enough to let her catch her breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's enough to allow her to adjust, for the stinging to subside and pleasure to pull softly at her nerves. It coils around her, straining against his quickening pace and soon enough she is meeting his groans with her own.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His teeth nip at her pulse point, and her orgasm washes over her like ice water, sliding down her spine, and his follows, burning her up, and sending her stomach rolling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She feels every inch of him pressed against her, keeping her trapped against the wall, until he pulls out of her wordlessly, placing a final kiss on her neck before pulling away from her completely. He turns away from her  zip his trousers, and she lets her dress fall back around her knees. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn't say anything,  and she thinks that if she opens her mouth her stomach might betray her, so she stays, panting, against the wall as he picks something up from the floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turns back to her at the door, throwing her a lopsided smile that she thinks looks awfully like a smirk, but she thinks maybe he didn't intend it to. Maybe it was a mistake.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But now she's alone in a dingy bathroom, with her latest mistake dripping down her thigh. It tickles at her skin, and her chest closes up at the sensation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fuck it anyway Michelle." She lets her head fall back against the wall, banging slightly as it does. She lets out a shuddering breath swallowing the lump in her throat before pushing herself away from the wall to clean up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time she thinks to look for her panties her guilt is pricking at her skin like needles. She can't see them the first time her eyes sweep the floor, or the second, or the third, and then her vision is blurred by tears she refuses to let fall, so she stumbles her way out of the bathroom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She has every intention of going straight outside, but the bar catches her eye, and a double tequila sounds really good right now, so she makes a beeline for the counter, orders her drink, and ducks out of sight of the team, who are still congregated where she left them earlier. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sees someone stand from the table out of the corner of her eye as the bartender slides her drink in front of her. "Shit." She mutters, downing her drink and ducking away from the bar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Michelle!" She hears called from behind her when she reaches the door, and she quickens her pace, not stopping until she reaches her car and realizes she left her purse inside. "Michelle hey!" It's Carlos, obviously following her to get the gossip on his friend's most recent hookup.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stops at the car, doubling over beside it before emptying her stomach onto the ground. When she stands she turns to snap at him, her fists curling at her sides. He takes a step back when he sees her, holding her jacket and purse out as a peace offering. "You left them inside." He explains, eyes widening as he takes in her appearance. "What happened?" She snatches her things out of his hands, and does not answer his question. "Michelle?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shakes her head, unlocking her car and sliding into the driver's seat. Carlos follows into the passenger side. "Michelle don't think for a second I'm letting you drive right  now. You've been drinking." She huffs, her head falling against the headrest as she lets out a sigh. "Michelle? Are you okay?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shakes her head slowly, screwing her eyes shut as her breath shudders. "I'm so stupid Carlos." She whimpers, before letting tears stream down her face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No you're not," he assures her, trying not to stare at the marks peppering her neck, or the torn sleeve of her dress slipping down her arm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes I am," she insists,  leaning forward to knock her head on the steering wheel. "So fucking stupid." Only someone incredibly stupid would have done what she did tonight. "Dirty. And stupid. And gross. And stupid."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Michelle come on, it's not that bad, come here." He tugs her towards him, pulling her head onto his shoulder while she cries. "I'm sorry it didn't turn out how you thought, or how you wanted." He presses a kiss to her forehead. "But that's not your fault. I promise. And no one thinks you're stupid, or dirty, I promise."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I feel stupid." She chokes. "And dirty. God I feel disgusting." She pulls away from him, rubbing at her arms roughly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'll call a cab, we can get you home and shower." There is a tap at her window as he pulls out his phone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hey!" TK smiles when Carlos opens the window. "You alright? I was wondering where you got to. Where's dad?" He glances around the car, his smile dropping when he catches sight of a tear stained Michelle. "Where's dad?" He asks, darkly this time. Michelle grimaces as she shrugs, not looking directly at TK. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>TK swears as he pushes off the car. "I'm sorry Michelle." He mutters before stalking off, pulling his phone out of his pocket. They watch him attempt to call Owen, obviously failing from the way he nearly throws his phone at the ground. "No answer." He huffs when he returns to the car. "Hey, I'll drive you home if you want?" They both start to protest. "Save you both the cost of a taxi, and I'll bring your car so you have it in the morning,  no worries." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos gets out to usher Michelle into the back of the car, staying with her while she leans on her shoulder. It's mostly silent the whole drive to the house, only Carlos giving the odd direction to break it.  When they pull into the driveway Michelle is out of the car like a shot. She doesn't realise until she gets to the door that she doesn't have her keys, and swings around yell at them to hurry up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What is taking you two so long?" She hisses, wrapping her arms around herself. "I need a damn shower." She mutters it to herself, though just loud enough for Carlos, who has jogged up the steps, to hear her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he unlocks the door she makes a beeline to the bathroom, immediately locking herself inside and flipping on the hot water. She tosses her clothes in a pile by the sink and steps under the scalding water. It burns at her skin, and with all the scrubbing she does, she is red-raw by the time Carlos finally knocks on the door to check on her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Almost done!" She calls out with a choke, shutting off the water. She waits until he walks away from the door before grabbing her towel, drying off quickly before wrapping it around herself. She hadn't grabbed a change of clothes in her hurry, so she peeks her head out the door, and hurries to her room when she's sure the coast is clear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She's just pulled on a turtleneck and sweats when Carlos knocks on her door. "Hey Chica. You okay? Can I come in?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn't answer, instead just opens the door and lets him in. Her stomach drops when she sees the clothes clutched in his hand, and the concern on his face. "I know it looks bad…" She starts, guessing that he's assuming the worst. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It does look bad Michelle." He shuts the door behind himself,  TK doesn't need to hear this conversation. "Your dress is torn. You look like hell. Not to mention he must have taken your underwear. Which is sick by the way. Yeah Michelle, it looks bad."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's not as bad as it looks Carlos, I promise." Tearing up doesn't help her case though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"How bad is it then?" She shakes her head, tears welling up in her eyes as she looks away. "How bad is it Michelle?" When she fails to answer the second time he sighs. "Can you at least tell me that he used protection?" She stops her pacing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fuck." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay." He tries not to add to her panic again. "That's okay, we can sort that out, it's fine. But you gotta tell me what happened Michelle. I'll file a report if you need me to?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No!" She shakes her head, horrified. "No, I told you, it's not that bad! He wouldn't… he wouldn't do that. Oh my god Carlos it's Owen!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Michelle right now he's not just Owen. He's the guy who took you into a bathroom in a bar. And left you with torn clothes, no underwear, crying and throwing up in a parking lot. Drunk. Forgive me for not being sure that that guy wouldn't...you know." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Carlos…" She pleads, bile rising in her throat again. "Please. I don't need you to remind me how stupid I am." She turns away to wipe at her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry, that's not what I'm trying to do." He takes her hand. "I just want to make sure that you're okay."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm fine." She assures him. "I just… I made a mistake, and it was stupid. And I feel like crap about it. But I'm okay." She wraps her arms around herself, crossing her feet underneath her legs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I've been tiptoeing around it, but I need to ask properly and I need you to to answer. He didn't...rape you?" Carlos looks like he might be sick, and Michelle is sure she will be if he doesn't let go of this thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"For God's Sake Carlos no! I already told you! What is wrong with you anyway! It's Owen, you know Owen, how could you think even for a second that he..that he would… I made a stupid, horrible mistake and that is all it was." She assures him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> "You deserve better, you know?" He takes her hand. "Billy, Owen, you deserve better than both of them."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I deserved what I got Carlos." She scoffs. "They were my choices and I deserved how they turned out." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Michelle you are the most generous person I have ever met." He pulls her to look at him. "The most giving, caring, lovely person I know. You deserve generosity back. You don't deserve these selfish men, you deserve so much better than that. I mean it."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She gives him a watery smile. "You're a good friend Carlos." She shifts on the bed, wincing as she does so. At Carlos's concerned look she waves him off. "I'm fine. I'm just a little sore. But nothing to worry about I promise."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He hurt you?" He hisses, eyes scanning for further injuries. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's fine Carlos." She rolls her eyes, pulling away from him. "It wasn't...exactly gentle." She admits, her fingers fidgeting in her lap. "But it's nothing to worry about, I'll be okay in the morning. Speaking of, you're on shift in the morning, you should go home and sleep."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I won't sleep till I know you're okay. Maybe you should go get checked out?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Carlos I said I was fine!" She snaps, before letting out a sigh. "Besides, there isn't exactly a 24 hour gynecologist."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"There's the hospital?" He points out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No! I already told you it's not that bad, and I do not need more people to witness my humiliation."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay no hospital then… what about Nancy?" He offers. "Maybe she could come over and check you out? Make sure you're okay?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Have you lost your mind Carlos? I am not calling Nancy in the middle of the night to examine me because I can't handle a bit of rough sex!" Her anger abates suddenly. "Or speak up and ask him to slow down." She starts to fidget with her fingers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Michelle you are my best friend and I love you and the thought of someone hurting you is just about killing me." He admits.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I will be fine in the morning. I promise.” She insists, shooing him out of her room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stands his ground though. "I don't understand it." He blurs out. "I really thought he was a great guy. I thought he really liked you, I didn't think he would treat you like…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I understand it." She starts, looking away from Carlos. "I know he likes me. I wouldn't have done it if he didn't. But look at me Carlos." She chuckles bitterly. "I'm ten years younger than him. I'm not clever, I'm not exceptional. I couldn't even get into Texas State. I'm crazy! I've been arrested fifteen times! I have nothing to offer but the fact that I'm pretty. Of course I'm the type of girl to be left alone in the bathroom of a dingy bar. Because I'm sure as hell not the girl he'll want to take home to meet his Mama."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Michelle come on." He starts. "You're awesome! You're the best damn paramedic I have ever seen. You're kind, and generous, and funny. Yeah you've been arrested a lot, but that just shows how dedicated and caring you are. You're absolutely beautiful in every possible way and there is no mother on earth who wouldn't be over the moon to have their son bring you home. It's not your fault it's theirs."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You are the only person in the world who thinks getting arrested that often is a good thing." Michelle chuckles. "I was with Billy for almost a year and a half, I never met his family, his friends, the team didn't even know for months. I mean what does that say about me?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It says that Billy was an asshole who couldn't appreciate a good thing. And it shows that you will do anything to make the people you love happy." He takes her hand, massaging it between his own. "Which sometimes means they take advantage of you. But you've always got me Chica. Always."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're a good friend Carlos." She squeezes his hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're on shift in the morning, I should let you get some sleep." He sighs, unsure if he should leave her alone. "I'll crash on your sofa in case you need me." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're right, I should sleep. But you don't have to stay here. I'll be okay." She assures him and he nods, though they both know he'll probably stay anyway." When he leaves she settles herself in for a sleepless night. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos finds TK settled on the sofa, a suspiciously empty sleeve of cookies on the coffee table in front of him. “Stress eating?” He asks from the doorway. He chuckles at TK’s guilty scramble from the sofa. “Michelle won’t mind, she’ll probably just assume she ate them herself in some dark corner of her memory. Bit of a cookie addict, that one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She okay?” TK shuffles his feet. Carlos nods awkwardly, unsure how Mivhelle would want him to explain the situation. “I can’t believe he would do that. I mean he’s my dad, he gave me the sex talk when I was a kid. I thought…. I dunno, I thought he was decent.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t...you know.” Carlos tries to assure him. “I’m not saying that it's okay, but it's not as bad as you think. I'm gonna stay here anyway, just in case."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Maybe you should give her some space? Check in on her in the morning? I think if I was her I'd wanna be alone." TK suggests. "Besides, I still gotta go home and kick Dad's ass for this." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Xx</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t even knock on Owen’s door before barging in. “You’re such a bastard Dad.” He snaps, rousing Owen from his sleep. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Owen just grunts in confusion. “How could you do that to her? To anyone? Anyone is bad enough but goddammit dad this is Michelle! I know Michelle! I work with her! I like her!” He paces the room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“TK what is your problem?”Owen chuckles slightly in confusion, and TK’s blood boils. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My problem? My problem dad is that you taught me about consent, and respect, and I just found out that you are full of crap!” He’s seething, his words spitting out at a still confused Owen. “Seriously Dad, what did you think would happen? No one would find out?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well I didn’t think I would have to have this conversation with my Son.” He shoots back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do that to a woman and you should know that we are going to have this conversation.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay now you really have no idea what you’re talking about.” Owen warns.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She was crying Dad! In a parking lot! I may be gay but at least I know that women don’t cry in parking lots after sex that they were okay with!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, a weight drops in Owen’s stomach. “I didn’t…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dad, you took a drunk woman into the bathroom. And all of a sudden she has torn clothes and is running away, crying, and throwing up in the parking lot. How do you expect me to believe that you did nothing wrong?” Owen finally sits up fully. "Honestly Dad, can you look me in the eye and tell me confidently that you didn't… that she was okay with all of it? That you didn't do anything wrong?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Owen swallows thickly, trying to run the whole thing over in his head. "No." He admits as the images jumble together. TK doesn't give him time to explain his hesitation,  instead storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Owen sits on the bed, his stomach swimming as he thinks of Michelle. He thinks of her eyes sparkling while they danced, pressing herself against him, a chuckle against his ear. He thinks of her sly grin as she unzipped his jeans. He thinks of her face. Screwing up in what Owen now worries was pain and not pleasure. He thinks of her jerking against him, wondering now if she was trying to push away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thinks of her standing pressed against the wall, pale and trembling. And he left her there. Without a word. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His stomach jolts. "Fuck."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Xx</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> It takes her ridiculously long to get ready in the morning. She spends half the morning slathering her neck and chest in layers of concealer that she can only hope will hold up in the heat. And cover up the Mark's long enough, and well enough,  that no one will see them before she manages to change when she gets to the station. She really doesn't have a choice when her only clean uniform shirt is in her locker at the station. She's in her car before she remembers that she needs to stop at the pharmacy on her way in, and curses herself for forgetting. Now she's going to have to walk in late and try and avoid anyone noticing her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There is only one pharmacy between her house and the station that opens on Sundays. Her stomach churns as she pulls into the free space outside, and she keeps her head ducked as she enters. Thankfully, it is a young woman on the counter, and Michelle is able to muster the courage to approach her. "Hi there! How can I help you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Uh...hi…" Michelle stutters,  giving an awkward wave. "I uh...I need the um… I need the morning after pill." She struggles out, her face burning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The woman gives a smile to ease her obvious discomfort. "No problem! That'll just be a few minutes wait Ms…?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Blake." Michelle answers,  trying to still her trembling hands. The woman nods and makes her way to the back, leaving Michelle free to hide away behind the nearest shelf.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Michelle!" A dreaded voice calls out to her. Francis Montgomery. Neighbour, and close friend, of Theresa Blake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hi Mrs Montgomery." She greets weakly. "How's it going?" She lifts a hand to scratch at the back of her neck, conveniently letting her arm cover her chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Francis begins a tirade of ailments, and the achievements of her offspring, and Michelle starts to dread the return of the other pharmacist. "It's so lovely to see your sister doing so well again." Michelle nods in response,  chest constricting as the other woman comes back to the counter, box in hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay Ms Blake, now just a bit of advice, it can often lead to nausea." The woman starts to explain. "So I would take it with ginger ale, and just keep an eye on your stomach for a while after." She is lovely, and cheerful, handing Michelle the box with just a hint of a flourish. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michelle can sense the moment that Francis catches sight of the name of the pill on the box. "Michelle Blake! What on earth do you need with this?" Michelle thinks that would be pretty self explanatory, but says nothing. "I would have thought your mother would have taught you better than that!" She feels even more like a guilty teenager, and she feels anger start to prick at her skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"How much will that be?" She ignores the woman, turning instead to the other pharmacist, who looks mildly horrified. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she has paid Francis pipes up again, shaking her head sadly. "What would your father think if he were here?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michelle scoffs. "I highly doubt my father would be giving my sex life an awful lot of thought, Mrs Montgomery. And I don't understand why you care so much about it." She snaps, grabbing her change from the counter and stalking out the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tosses the box into the passenger seat when she gets into the car, immediately starting it up and making her way to the station. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Xx</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>TK is gone by the time his alarm rings for work, meaning that Owen pulls up to the station alone. It's quiet when he walks in, everyone nursing a touch of a hangover, or just the after affects of a late night. He is halfway through making a coffee when she walks in, and promptly changes direction as soon as they make eye contact. He leaves the coffee sitting on the machine to follow her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Michelle!" He catches her as she enters her office.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Owen." She addresses him casually, almost the same as she does every day. But without that hint of warmth he's grown used to.  "What can I do for you?" And there it is, that note of hostility that tells him that TK was right, and he has a lot of apologising to do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I need to talk to you." He pleads. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I need to change Owen, I'm running late." She groans, turning away from him. When he doesn't leave the doorway she relents. "You have two minutes."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We need to talk about last night." He begins. "I don't… I uh...I think I need to… I need to apologise for what I...for not...for treating you…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Did you think about this apology at all before you chased after me Owen?" Her arms are crossed, her voice scathing. "Did you actually consider what you need to apologise for? Or did someone tell you you needed to?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I was thinking about it. I just… I don't remember much of it." He admits, eyes on the floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So you don't know what you're apologising for?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I know that I'm apologising for treating you badly. I know that it was bad, and I upset you. And I am sorry about that." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fine." She shrugs, brushing past him to make her way to her locker. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fine?" He follows her. "That's it?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What do you want me to say Owen? Do you want me to thank you for the most half-assed apology ever? You don't even know what you're sorry for!" She tries to keep her voice down, choosing instead a seething whisper.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Then tell me! Please. Because this has been going over and over in my head and I can't properly remember what happened. Or what I did. So I need you to tell me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No. I won't tell you. Because I would like a minute. Just a minute, to not have to think about it. Please." Those big eyes of hers are pleading,  and Owen's chest twists at how much they seem to hurt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay." He relents, stepping back from her and letting her walk away. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Xx</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They have their lunch at a food truck near the hospital after a call. She likes days like this, when the three of them get to sit together away from the station. She takes the pill at the picnic table, while Tim and Nancy are grabbing their own food. Thankfully, her ginger ale doesn't look totally out of place alongside their sodas, and thankfully, they say nothing about last night. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her enjoyment of food and sunshine is ruined however, by her phone ringing in her back pocket. As her mother's ID flashes across the screen, Michelle knows she is in for a lecture, which would only be made worse if she hangs up and leaves this for when she's alone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hey Mama." She answers, with just a hint of a grimace. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Michelle." Her mother is curt. "Imagine my surprise when Francis calls me to say she's been talking to my daughter." It's all Michelle can do to hold back a groan. "My usually lovely and polite daughter. Who appears to have been transformed into rudeness and irresponsibility." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michelle's sandwich seems to have suffered some kind of crush injury, and Tim and Nancy pretend not to notice. They also pretend not to hear Theresa on the other end of the phone. "What a shame!" Michelle feigns concern. "I can't imagine why she would feel that way."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Michelle Blake do not talk back to your mother! Morning after pills? At your age? I raised you better than this!" Michelle holds back a scoff.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well actually Mama, you raised me exactly like this. You raised me, and I'm like this, no better." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I raised you to be responsible! I raised you to be respectable! I did not raise you to be showing up to pharmacies hungover on Sunday mornings to get rid of Saturday night's mistakes!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Thank you Mama!" Michelle cuts her off. "I'll keep that in mind. Love you, bye!" She almost throws her phone away when she hangs up. Tim and Nancy, who have become incredibly interested in the eating habits of the table beside them, barely even react when she slams it on the table instead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pair of them do their best to fill her in on their observations, not once mentioning her phone call. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Xx</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She is still in a bad mood when they pull up to the hospital with their next patient, handing him off as quickly and as curtly as possible. Which isn’t very quickly with this particular idiot. It takes her a while to list his many idiotic injuries, and by the time she finishes another rig has come in, and Tim and Nancy are leaning against their own, chatting to a paramedic she doesn’t recognise. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m still trying to get the lay of the land.” the girl explains. So she’s new, which must be why Michelle has never seen her before. “Find out who’s who, who to steer clear of.” Michelle could definitely give her some pointers there, one Billy Tyson comes to mind easily. Michelle has been a paramedic in Austin her entire adult life, she knows nearly everybody. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well anyone you’re not sure about, just ask, we know almost everyone.” Tim offers, and Michelle thinks she can make out just a hint of a blush from where she’s standing, ticking off various forms for her patient. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re with the 126 right? So your Captain is Michelle Blake?” Her head snaps up, and she watches Tim and Nancy nod. “Quite the bit of gossip about her, is it true?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is what true?” Nancy asks, a bite to her voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I heard she likes the fire captains.” Michelle’s stomach drops, she thought that talk about her and Billy had died down by now. “She was in a relationship with Billy Tyson a few years ago. And she fucked Owen Strand in a bar last night. Classy.” The girl sneers, and Michelle’s face burns. How in the hell did it get out so damn fast?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tim and Nancy stand in silence, and they at least have the decency to look shocked, staring at each other, each begging the other to speak. Michelle tosses the forms on the nurses station. “One idiot down.” She calls from the doorway as she leaves the ER. “Just a few more hours worth to go.” She hops into the front of the rig, and Tim and Nancy follow hastily, leaving the new girl standing there, smirk on her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Xx</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Owen is waiting for her when they return to the firehouse. She rolls her eyes as she brushes past him, ignoring his outstretched arm. "Michelle!" He calls to her, jogging down the hall after her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don't talk to me!" She snaps, quickening her pace. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Michelle wait!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Didn’t you listen to me this morning? I can't talk to you right now Captain Strand." She slips into her office. Unfortunately for her, Owen doesn't seem to understand the concept of a dismissal, and follows her in. "Get out." She doesn't even look at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Michelle."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No Owen. No." He doesn't move. "Stop looking at me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So I can't look at you now either?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No. No you can't. You look at me, and I feel disgusting. Stop it."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Michelle come on." He chuckles, before his smile falls into a frown. “I need to talk to you about last night.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You really don't get it do you?" He stands in silence. "I don’t want to talk about last night, I want to forget about last night. I would give anything to not have done what I did last night. Literally anything. Because it was dirty, and stupid. And disgusting. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone </span>
  </em>
  <span>knows it." His eyes blow wide, realisation dawning on him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t…” He can’t even say it. “Did I?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t what? Assault me?” She asks it with a hint of sarcastic disdain. “No Owen, you didn’t. So you can stop worrying about it because it’s clearly been bothering you so much.” There is no understanding in her voice, only unveiled anger. “So you can get out. You’re off the hook.” She spits.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Michelle I don’t want to be off the hook.” He pleads. “I can’t stop thinking about last night. I want you to talk to me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So now talking is important to you.” She almost laughs. “That’s really nice to know Owen. But now isn’t the time.” She looks away from him, pretending to look for paperwork on her desk. She sits down and winces.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” He asks, stepping towards her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well this is a whole new side to you Captain!” She cheers sarcastically. “For your information, no. I’m not okay. But if you had half a brain you would have known that already. You think you can’t stop thinking about it? I can’t even pee without being reminded that I did something so stupid. I couldn’t have lunch without my mother telling me I’m a disappointment. I can’t even do my job without someone who has been in Austin all of five minutes gossiping about my sex life! I can’t look in the mirror. I almost had to wear a goddamn turtleneck this morning because I’m fucking covered in…” She grasps at her chest, the fabric of her shirt scratching roughly against the sensitive bruises. “I’m covered in hickeys. So for fucks sake don’t whine to me that you can’t stop thinking about it. You can’t even remember it.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I … I didn’t mean for any of... “ He stutters. “I didn’t want you to feel like…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like what Owen? Like a stupid, disgusting idiot? Because I felt like that last night without all the gossip, and the judgement.” The guilt is written all over his face, and Michelle feels just the tiniest shred of satisfaction. “I know you didn’t mean for it Owen, I know you didn’t mean anything at all.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Michelle…” He begins another apology and Michelle’s stomach churns.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You didn't even kiss me." She chokes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She still won't look at him, but he suspects that it's now more to hide her own face, than to avoid him. "You were supposed to kiss me. And it wasn't supposed to be some stupid random meaningless kiss either. It was supposed to be one of those time stopping kisses, that makes the earth shatter and it's just you and me. Like those stupid Hallmark movies Carlos forces me to watch. We were supposed to be this… thing. Stupid of me, I know. But that’s what I wanted. And last night, when we were dancing...that’s what I thought was going to happen. But you didn't kiss me. Of course you didn't, why would you? I'm not the girl that gets kissed on the dance floor. And I'm sure as hell not the girl in the movie that gets the guy she thinks she can't have. I'm just the girl that you fucked in the bathroom of a bar."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry. I didn't. " He pauses. "I didn't mean. You deserve better than what I did to you." He almost steps towards her, stopping himself at the last moment. "It wasn’t stupid of you.” He tells her. “It’s what I wanted too. I'm sorry that I ruined it." And with that he finally leaves her alone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Xx</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She avoids him at the Honky Tonk on Monday. And with the way Tim and Nancy seem to be standing guard, there isn't much hope of him getting a word in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"If I promise to behave will you two stop breathing down my neck?" She snaps, causing Tim and Nancy to jump backwards. They stutter and nod, allowing Michelle to move closer to the bar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We should have done something yesterday." Nancy hisses. "We should have defended her." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We just gotta keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn't anything stupid."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah like the last time?" It's out of her mouth before Tim has the time to warn her of Michelle's return. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Captain. I meant. I mean I didn't mean."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I know what you meant." She chokes, turning to make her way as far from Tim and Nancy as she can. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Xx</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t speak to him unless absolutely necessary at work. Their interactions are few and far between, and contain no familiarities beyond “Captain.” It's the first time she says his title without even a hint of flirtation. Gone is the soft bright chuckle, now replaced by a spit. The entire team is wary of any situation that might require them to speak, and whenever possible, flee the area when such situations arise. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Captain Strand, this scene is medical.” She snaps, for what feels like the thousandth time this week, and almost the entire 126 flinces. Owen thinks that he even catches the patient wince, but that was probably in reaction to the gashes down his arm. Probably. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As usual, Owen grits his teeth, and steps back with a nod. “Yes Captain.” He catches Judd and Paul rolling their eyes at each other behind Michelle’s back, and despite his frustrations with her, he still kinda wants to call them out on it. She is still the paramedic Captain after all, despite how difficult she is making his job right now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s heard them talking about it, wondering what on earth happened between them to cause such a bitter rift. Nearly all of them assuming it was something he did. The way TK has been looking at him hasn’t helped with those assumptions.  They look at him like he should just suck it up and apologise, so everything can return to normal. As if he hasn’t tried. As if he doesn’t try to talk to her every single day to try and fix things. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If he was her he probably wouldn’t want to hear it either. But this has got to come to a stop. At some point something has to give, so he has no choice but to keep trying. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t get too familiar though. Every conversation starts with “Captain Blake.” And somehow still always ends with her snapping at him to leave her alone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he has to try a new strategy. “Michelle.” He starts, leaning on her doorway. Her head shoots up, eyes flashing. “This has to stop. You have to talk to me, for the team.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The same team that keeps looking at me the way they have?” She scoffs. “The same team who rolled their eyes behind my back today? No, I don’t think I’ll talk to you, even for their sake.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Michelle please.” He can’t even count how many times he’s said those words the past few days.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tell me Captain.” She leans back in her chair. “Should I do this for your team or mine? Because your team is your problem Captain Strand. And mine...well… Mine have made it quite clear what they think of me. Especially when it comes to you.” There are tears welling in her eyes as she chokes out her response, fists balling in front of her on the desk. “So using the team as an excuse to force me to talk to you isn’t going to work Owen. I can talk to you for work, but anything else is just stupid.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Michelle this is affecting work and don’t pretend that you don’t know that.” He can’t help it, he understands Michelle’s reluctance, really, he does, but it has gotten a bit ridiculous at this point. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you expect me to do Owen?” She yells, obviously getting the attention of the team lingering outside. “How am I supposed to talk to you? How are Tim and Nancy supposed to have any respect for me? How are any of them? I’m not talking to you because I am trying desperately to hold on to the last shred of respect that I have for myself so how the hell am I supposed to expect them to respect me?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Michelle they do res-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No they don’t Owen!” She shouts. “Nobody does! Not them, not my mother. I've been far too much a disappointment in every possible way!” She stands up, stretching at the back of her neck. “Not you, not most of the fucking Austin FD. My father wouldn’t! That much has been made very clear to me by nearly everyone who fucking knew him. Carlos pretends to but I know he just feels sorry for me.” The team have gathered on the balcony, all of them pretending very badly to be busy. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I respect you.” He starts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t patronise me Owen. If you did we wouldn’t be here would we?” She’s not even trying not to cry anymore. “What happened wouldn’t have happened. And you wouldn’t be standing here trying to feel better about it. Complaining to me about making your life difficult. You can move on! There is nothing stopping you. You don’t have your mother’s nosy neighbours spreading your business. You don’t have a reputation in this city for making stupid descisions. You don’t have a team that thinks they need to babysit you. You don’t have hickeys you have to spend half an hour covering every morning before work. You don’t have a best friend who had to try to take you to the hospital to make sure you were okay, or try to have another friend do it because that is somehow less humiliating. And not that you’ve given this even a shred of thought, but you also don’t need to worry about being stuck with any consequences in nine months. You are totally in the clear thanks to me. So you can move the fuck on. And leave me alone to try to do the same.” Her chest heaves while she tries not to look at him, but there is nowhere else to look, not with the team openly staring at them from the balcony. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I uh..” He starts pathetically. “I don’t remember… How do I not remember? Are you saying we didn’t use a-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh my God Owen.” She groans. “That’s what you’re worried about?” She looks as though she might be close to laughter. “No. We didn’t. But that isn’t even the point. Tell me Owen, if I hadn’t thought to be responsible and get the morning after pill, and I did end up pregnant. If I needed an abortion, would you have gone with me to the clinic and held my hand? Or if I didn’t want one, would you have helped me with that? No you wouldn’t. You would have just left me to deal with it alone, just like in the bar. That is the point Owen.” She shoves her way past him, ducking her head as she passes the team on her way to the showers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He makes to follow her, to try to explain himself. A hand on his chest stops him while he passes the team. "Leave her be." Tim warns him. "Don't you think you've caused her enough trouble?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Owen huffs in response, nodding and turning back to his office. He watches Nancy and Marjan frown at him and leave when he slams the glass door shut. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Xx</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can I get a tequila please?" Owen slides in next to her the  next night at the Honky Tonk. She's been cold with him all day, even worse than the rest of the week, and all he wants is to tell her how wrong she is about everything. She tries to edge along the counter away from him. "And whatever the lady would like."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Tequila." She tells Chris. "I can buy my own drinks Owen." She pointedly does not look at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I know that. Michelle, I'm trying to apologise. I’m not trying to...I just want to talk to you." He pleads.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well I don't want to talk to you." She bites back, grabbing the glass Chris sets in front of her. "And don't ever refer to me as 'the lady' again." She throws the shot onto his jeans, turning on her heels and storming towards the bathroom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She lets the tears fall only for a minute, turning to the mirror to fix her eyeliner when the door opens. Her stomach tenses as she catches sight of the man who has just entered. “The men’s is next door, Billy.” She tells him, praying to god that it is just a simple mistake. He takes a step towards her and she knows that it obviously wasn’t a mistake. She knows she’s fit, and strong enough to hold her own a lot of the time, but Billy is a firefighter, she knows how strong he is, and she can guess that this will probably not be one of those times. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not who you were expecting eh?” He smirks. “Didn’t think it would matter much to you.” He steps even closer and Michelle straightens her spine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It does matter actually.” She balls her fists. “I am leaving now. And you should know well enough Billy, this bar is full of police and emergency services.” It is all she can do to keep her voice steady. “So you should leave too."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Now come on." He drawls, and bile rises in her throat. "Don't play hard to get with me." She backs into the wall. "What's wrong baby? Why are you acting so cold? I know you did this for Captain Strand last week. Everybody does." She can't try to slide herself along the wall without him noticing, and she knows if she tries it won't be pretty. "Don’t try to play the lady with me Michelle. I know you too well." He steps right in front of her, his hand coming forward to grab at her hip. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Somehow, the contact jolts her into action and she bolts to the door, only to be stopped by his foot hooking around her ankle. He grabs at the back of her dress, pulling her back towards him, and she curses her choice of clothing. If she hadn't been so desperate to get out of tight trousers she would have had a decent chance here. "I don't think so." He hisses, bunching her dress up to her hips. She struggles against him, kicking out when he grabs at her thighs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her arms are trapped against her chest, which he is crushing tight enough that she can't manage to move them. She lets out a panicked cry, hoping desperately that someone can hear her over the noise of the bar. “Billy.” She tries, hoping that maybe he might listen, they spent so long together after all. “Billy you’re hurting me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He moves one of his hands to cover her mouth, moving his body enough for her to slip her arms out from between them, managing to push him away slightly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He comes back with a vengeance, tugging at her underwear. It burns against her skin as he tugs them down roughly, straining against her kicking legs. “What’s the big deal Chelle? It’s not like you haven’t done this before. I’ve missed you baby.” He grabs her hand to prove his point, twisting it and forcing it down to rub at his erection. Her stomach jolts, bile rising in her throat, and she lets out another shout. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Billy, please." She whines, struggling against him. "Please stop." The hand on her mouth has travelled to her throat, and pushes her upwards. She winces, screwing her eyes shut as he presses down on her throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All of a sudden, Billy shouts, and it’s over, he releases her and she slumps against the wall,  eyes still closed. He lets out another groan, and she opens her eyes to see Owen Strand pinning him up against the wall. “I believe the lady told you to stop.” He hisses, his face right up against Billy’s. He has his arm pressed under Billy’s chin, and she starts forward to make him stop, when Carlos appears in the doorway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Michelle!” He yells, starting towards her. “Oh my God what the hell happened?” She gestures feebly towards Billy, still pressed into the wall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Officer Reyes.” Owen nods at him, pushing harder against Billy’s struggles. “Can you take him out of here? Before you have to arrest me?” His last words are directed to Billy, who stops struggling with wide eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos cups Michelles head in one hand, giving a kiss to her hair before he turns to Owen and Billy, grabbing Billy by the wrists and directing him towards the door. Carlos turns to Owen just before he leaves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m warning you.” He hisses. “If you do anything else to upset her…” He doesn’t finish, but Owen understands well enough, nodding in assurance. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>When Owen turns back to her she is attempting to pull her underwear back up, and he averts his gaze awkwardly. "Come on Owen, it's not like it's anything you haven't seen before." It's not nearly as cutting as anything else she's said to him today, but it makes guilt well up in him all the same. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"If you say you're sorry Owen I swear to God…" She doesn't finish, just sighs and slumps against the wall. It reminds him of how she looked last week, and Owen wants to be sick.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I am though." He starts. "It's my fault. It's my fault you came in here."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Owen, don't flatter yourself, not everything I do is about you." She turns her face away from him with an eye roll. It's not even his fault Billy followed her in here, thinking he could get lucky. That's on her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Michelle please."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Can I go now?" She starts towards the door, wincing as her ankle twinges. "Fuck." She whispers under her breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You okay?" He asks, reaching an arm towards her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What the fuck do you think?" She spits, gesturing around herself before gritting her teeth and shoving past him out of the bathroom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The entire team is right outside the door, crowding her as soon as she emerges. Asking if she's okay. She tries to just ignore them, but a hand on her arm stops her and she juts it out, elbowing Paul in the chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Leave me alone!" She yells. "Can you all stop pretending that you care? With your eye rolling." She spits at Paul and Judd. "And your gossip." She sneers at Tim and Nancy. "You don't hide it well so stop trying to. I know what you all think of me. And I know that you aren't worried about me. You're just looking for gossip. I know you all think I deserve what just happened in there." She swallows. "And maybe I do! Maybe I deserve all of it!" She pulls herself away from the group, only making it a few steps further before being stopped again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Come on Michelle." TK calls out. "Everyone here is your friend. You know that. Everyone is just concerned." She won't look him in the eye. She glances around for Carlos, remembering slowly that he must be off somewhere, taking care of Billy. He’ll probably have called someone to bring him to the police station.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Can you take me home TK?" She mumbles, tears threatening her eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sure." He nods, grabbing their jackets. He keeps a hand on her back while he leads her to his car, depositing her in the passenger set with a squeeze to her hand. “We have more than enough witnesses for a strong case if you want?” He offers when he slides into his seat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.” She chokes out quickly. “I just want...I just want to forget that this ever happened. I want to go home and never set foot in that bar again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Michelle…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is the second time in like a week that I’ve been asked that question TK.” She says to her lap. “Am I gonna do this every week? Am I really gonna let that happen again?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let it? Michelle you didn’t let any of this happen. You didn’t let Billy do that…” TK’s knuckles turn white against the steering wheel. “You’ve been really unlucky, yeah, but it’s not your fault.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Owen was my fault.” She counters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that why you won’t let him apologise?” A guilty chuckle washes through her. “I know you don’t want to listen to him, and believe me, I understand. But he’s been going crazy all week, he just wants to make things right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If he wanted to make things right, he’d listen to me and leave me alone.” She huffs. “All I’m asking for is a little bit of space, and he refuses to give me that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tomorrow he’s gonna ask if you’re okay. And he is going to keep asking until you are.” He still hasn’t started the car, and she starts to wonder if he ever will. “He was wrong last week, he treated you horribly. And I get that, I’m still angry with him too. But I also know how much that is killing him, I can see it all the time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I look at Owen…” she sighs. “My skin crawls. I feel sick. I don’t know how to change that. And when he looks at me? All that I see is him begging me to make him feel better. And I can’t do that for him until I can do it for myself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>TK only nods, and starts the car. As if on queue, the back door opens. “Dad,” TK sighs. “I’m taking Michelle home.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know.” He pokes his head into the car. “Can I come along?” TK looks at Michelle, and at her resigned nod he allows his father into the car. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They drive in silence, and Michelle can feel Owen’s eyes burning into the back of her head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The rest of the team just want to make things right too.” TK tells her after a while, when they’re almost halfway to her house. “They aren’t judging you. They’re not gossiping about you. You know Tim nearly tried to kick Dad’s ass for upsetting you. Tim!” She allows herself a chuckle. As if Tim would be able to take Owen in a fight. “No one thinks any less of you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do.” She says to the air. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They hear her, but neither of them say anything in return. She’s slower to get out of the car than she was last week, staring at her front door for a second before she does. The Strands follow her, staying a few steps back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No one says anything when she unlocks the door, or when she makes her way to the stairs. The only sound in the house for the next half hour is the shower running. When she returns downstairs, it is with damp hair an pyjamas, and she jumps when she sees TK and Owen sitting wordlessly in her living room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re still here?” She questions, wrapping her arms around herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We wanted to make sure you were okay.” They say simultaneously. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well I’m fine.” She states sarcastically, gesturing to herself. “Thank you.” She turns somber. “I appreciate it.” It’s directed at Owen, and TK seems to take this as his queue to wait in the car. “I should thank you…” She starts, fidgeting with her fingers. “If you hadn’t come in…” She doesn’t finish, her stomach rolling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t be… It was my fault.” She starts to protest but he cuts her off. “It was. All of it was. You going into the bathroom. Billy thinking he could follow you. That’s my fault. And everything else is my fault too. If I’d treated you better last week, none of this would have happened. I wouldn’t have taken you into the bathroom. I would probably have taken you home instead. Or not done any of it. I would have gathered the balls to kiss you on the dancefloor, and left it there. I wouldn’t have left you the way that I did. Noone would be talking about it. You wouldn’t have had to go through any of the stuff you had to go through this week. Michelle… I really am sorry." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fine." She sighs. "You're sorry." She starts to leave the room, stopped by his hand grabbing her wrist. She cries out at the pain as it twists, still sensitive from when Billy had grabbed it earlier. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” He releases her instantly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not your fault.” She waves him off. “It was Billy. He, uh, twisted it. It’s fine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let me look at it.” He offers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Owen, I’m a paramedic. My wrist is fine.” She glares at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re also in pain. Let me look at it.” She rolls her eyes, offering her wrist to him. He touches it gingerly, and she squirms. “Between this and your ankle...well, it’s a good thing you’re off tomorrow.” She doesn’t say anything, just chews at her lip. “It would help to stabilise it, for the time being. Just to help you sleep.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nods. “I have bandages here somewhere.” She limps off to find the first aid kit, and he follows a few steps behind, knowing she will probably need help with it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She lets him bandage her wrist at the kitchen table in silence. She can sense his discomfort, just waiting for him to sigh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Michelle."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I get that you're sorry Owen.” She starts. “But it doesn't matter." She wrenches her arm away. "It doesn't matter because it still happened and I still let it happen and I have to deal with how humiliating that is. So you can be sorry if it helps you but I really don't care." She stands from the table, wincing as she puts weight on her ankle. “I am grateful for tonight though.” She almost makes it to the door before he speaks up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I want to make it up to you." The proposition churns her stomach, and she turns around in shock. "Please."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Did you really think I'd make the same mistake twice?" She leaves him in the room alone. He hears her make her way up the stairs, so he packs up her first aid kit, and joins TK in the car. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Xxx</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I meant dinner." He appears at her side on Monday morning. "I didn't mean...what you think I meant. I meant dinner." He fumbles. "I didn't mean…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"If I say yes will you leave me alone Captain?" He only nods in response, guilt bubbling in his stomach at her disinterest. "Fine." It doesn’t feel like a success at all, he almost feels worse, for forcing her into it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She continues to avoid him, speaking only for purely professional purposes. It is ever so slightly less angry though. Michelle seems to have mellowed slightly, but she still speaks with a bite. The team is grateful, no longer quite so tense when in their combined presence. And neither of them mention dinner until a few days later.. "I'm free tomorrow night." She tells him before leaving again. It's really not easy trying to apologise when she keeps disappearing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He texts her a time to come over, rather than trying to talk to her again. He has the day off, which gives him ample time to get the place ready. He changes his bed sheets just in case for some bizarre reason the decision not to, would come back to bite him. It reminds him of when his mother used to have dinner guests, insisting that he clean his room, as if they would be inspecting the room of a six year old between courses. He peeks into TK's room, and straightens the messy bed covers. He even breaks out his small fortune worth of scented candles and reed diffusers. He cleans the house from top to bottom. He even dusts. By the time five o'clock rolls around the place is spotless, and he hasn't even started dinner. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Shit." He curses, frantically pulling ingredients out of the fridge. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The doorbell rings at seven o'clock sharp. He checks his clothes for stains, and his hair for imperfections, before making his way to answer it. In the second before he opens the door, it occurs to him that maybe he's taken the whole apology thing too far, and his efforts might actually scare her off. "Hi!" He greets with a smile, which is only half returned. "I'm really glad you came." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Nice of you to care." She frowns, pushing past him into the house. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay. I deserved that." He concedes, closing the door behind her. "It's very nearly done, so you can make yourself comfortable. Can I get you a drink? And by drink I mean water. We don't have any alcohol in the house. I probably should have bought a bottle of wine. You'd probably like wine. There's a store just down the street, I can go get you some if you'd like?" He's totally panicking, and Michelle almost smiles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Water is just fine Owen. Thank you." She studies the living room while he gets her drink. She is still standing when he returns, eyeing the pristine sofa warily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You can sit, you know." He jokes. "It's actually a very comfortable sofa." He hands her a glass, settling in an armchair himself. "The appetizer is in the oven, it'll only be a few minutes." She nods awkwardly, perching herself on the edge of the sofa. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Appetizers huh?" She tries to chuckle. "Very formal."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sorry." He straightens his back. "I didn't mean to be, I just… I wanted it to be...nice."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It is nice, Owen." She corrects. "Thank you." She glances around the room, fending off another awkward chuckle. "So how long did it take you to clean today?" She blurts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Six hours." He admits. "I didn't realise how bad it had gotten." He tries to brush his efforts off. "Me and TK work so much, and I don't usually spend my time off cleaning."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"But you did today." She smiles softly, relaxing into the sofa a little. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wants to speak, but every time he opens his mouth he panics, knowing that everything he's said to her over the past two weeks has only upset her. "It's nice.." she starts, pausing before finishing awkwardly"Your house." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I forgot you've never been here!" He exclaims, grateful for something inoffensive to talk about. "It's not much, but it's certainly bigger than where we lived in New York." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Have you and TK always lived together then?" She questions, sipping at her water. "I always thought it was just because you moved here together." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Better to live together than with different roommates." He shrugs. "It just seemed easier, and he never moved out." He almost did, a few times, but it always seemed to fall to pieces at the last moment. "Guess we got used to it." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It'll be strange for you then, when he moves in with Carlos?" It's by far the most relaxed she's been with him in a two weeks. "I think he's going to ask him to, pretty soon. At least,  he was thinking about it…" He can guess that she means to say before that night, the last time that she and Carlos have had a conversation that didn't revolve around her problems.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I didn’t know they were there…” He starts. “Wow… That’s great to hear, Carlos is a really wonderful guy.” He gestures to her, as if she is responsible for Carlos’s goodness. “You’ve been friends a long time.” Suddenly it’s strange that they’ve never had this conversation. They’ve always glossed over her connection with Carlos, and acknowledging it sends a giggle up her throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.” She chuckles. “He was friendly with Iris in highschool. I guess I kinda took him under my wing.” He ended up being way closer with her than he ever had been with Iris, and the only person as determined to find her as she was, at least at the start. “He’s a great guy, TK is in wonderful hands.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I certainly hope so, his last relationship...didn’t end well.” Owen gets a haunted look behind his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Carlos told me.” She offers. He really doesn’t need to explain it, or even think about it any more. Just then, there is a beeping from the kitchen, and Owen jumps up to attend to it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a few minutes before he returns. “Dinner is served.” He tells her, with just the tiniest hint of a smirk. The table he brings her to is beautiful, absolutely pristine. A result of him ironing the table cloth no less than four times. He pulls out her chair for her, regretting it instantly when she stares at him. “Sorry..I..uh.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Owen.” She assures him, waving off his apology. “The table is beautiful.” She acknowledges as she sits down. “I'm a little scared to ask you how long it took.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If I said half an hour would you believe me?” He calls from the kitchen after slipping off to grab the appetizer. He knows that a full half hour is way too long to spend setting a table for two people, for any occasion, but he admits to it anyway, in the name of honesty. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well it’s such a bizarre time to spend on it I guess I have to believe you.” It’s the easiest their conversation has been for ages, and they are both glad of it. “I should have known you’d be such a perfectionist about it.” He always has been particular about appearances, and the state of his house shouldn’t surprise her at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Appearances are important!” He defends, re-entering the dining room. “Imagine if you’d come in here to a mess? With paper napkins? With paper plates?” He says it as though paper plates are the very bane of his existence, and she can’t help the laugh that escapes her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"If there were paper plates this would be a very different night." She admits with a smile. He sets her plate in front of her with a hint of a flourish, and she muffles a smile at the bruschetta. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Not a paper plate in sight." He assures her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It might just be the best bruschetta she's ever had. She knows it's a simple dish, but it's fresh, and tasty, and it's her favourite. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They don't talk about work, or the bar. He tells her things about New York that they've never talked about, she's never been, and he tells her his favourite places. He tells her about TK as a kid, and she tells him about Carlos as a teenager. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He brings out their main course, and it's another favourite of hers, and she begins to suspect that it cannot just be a coincidence. But she doesn't say anything. Instead, she takes a bite and let's out an accidental moan.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're quite the chef, Captain Strand." She blushes. His title twinkles in the air between them, rendering him speechless for a minute.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Uh thank you." He stutters. "It's….it was nothing." It was not nothing, but it was well worth it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well it's delicious...and one of my favourites." She eyes him with a smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh really?" He is a terrible actor, really. "I'm glad you like it." The tension that lingers is so unlike the past two weeks that Owen would gladly drown in it. He smiles around the rim of his glass, and she does the same, eyes shimmering.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So." He starts. "You know all my favourite places in New York. Your turn."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I've never been to New York?" She questions with a chuckle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I meant in Austin. I still feel like I don't know the place yet." He keeps it light and easy, before he does something stupid and ruins it. And he listens intently to every story she tells him about her misspent youth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"This all sounds very...yeehaw to you doesn't it?" She blushes, her nose scrunching. "I mean it's very different to New York. All my horses, and fields."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I mean it is pretty… I mean I never rode to high school in a tractor, and I've never seen it happen, so I don't share your hatred. But I'm sure it's valid." He chuckles. "But this is a city? Does that really happen here?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Even in the city, teenage boys take Texas seriously." He suddenly thinks that maybe Judd was one of these particular teenage boys, and it brings a grin to his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So it would seem." Their plates have been empty for a while, so he slips out of his seat. "Speaking of things teenage boys take seriously, I never told you about TK's boyband phase! Feel free to use this against him, or give it to Carlos, I'm sure he'd love to know about it." He takes her empty plate from her, making his way to the kitchen. "He spent most of his time learning choreography, he thought it would make him seem cool." He pokes his head around the door. "He was wrong." She can't help but giggle, and doesn't stop when he pulls his head back into the kitchen. "It drove me and his mother crazy."  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I imagine so." She calls back. "I drove my mother crazy as a teenager, I was singing constantly." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Now why do I think you were very good?" He bites on his lip, grateful that she can't see his nerves rolling off him. He leans his hands on the countertop waiting for her response, which filters through the open door with a chuckle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know about very good, but I wasn’t bad.” She admits. It’s been so long since she’s sang, or even really talked about it, and it all feels very past tense. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry,” He assures her, emerging with dessert. “I’m not going to force you to sing me a song.” He winks at her as he places her plate in front of her. Staring down at the chocolate cake, she knows that this is not a coincidence. She had expected some kind of fruit salad from Owen, not cake, dripping in sauce and ice cream. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You talked to Carlos…” She observes while he sits. “You asked him about my favourite foods.” She eyes the candles in the centre of the table. “And my favorite colour.” The flowers on the sideboard. “And flowers.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Owen dips his head guiltily. “I’m sorry if it was out of line…” He starts. “I wanted it to be nice, I didn-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s lovely.” She cuts him off. “Thank you. It’s really sweet, actually, that you did that.” She can safely say that no one else has ever gone to this kind of effort for her, and Owen should absolutely not be apologizing. “I didn’t think you meant it.” She blurts out, and he quirks his head questioningly. “I thought you were just trying to... make yourself feel better, or I dunno, make me stop giving you such a hard time. I didn’t think you meant it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I meant it. I meant all of it. You were right at the start though. I didn’t know what I was apologizing for exactly, but I knew that I upset you, and even though I couldn't remember what I did, I meant the apology.” It’s her turn to feel guilty, and she fiddles with her fork. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry… I wouldn’t listen to you. If I hadn’t been so stubborn then-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You were hurt, Michelle. That’s okay.” He assures her, almost reaching a hand across the table. Instead, he launches into an interrogation about her taste in music, and she smiles at him across the table. “Don’t take this the wrong way but, the music you listen to, the music you sing even, would I be wrong in assuming it’s… folky?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay now you’re just making fun of me!” She laughs, ignoring the fact that he’s actually a little bit correct. “Just because I’m from Texas doesn’t mean that I-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not because you’re from Texas.” He chuckles. “Have you looked at yourself?” He gestures, pointing out her dress, and her boots, even the way her hair is tied back. “Folky.” He grins, and she rolls her eyes, giving him a small nod. “I said not to take it the wrong way. I’m just trying to get to know you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Owen you’ve known me for a year.” She blushes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I want to know more about you. TK is my whole life, and you know him, so you basically know everything there is to know about me.” He counters, though that is blatantly untrue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know your favourite colour. Or your favourite foods.” She points out. “At least, I don’t know what foods you actually enjoy, because there is no way you actually enjoy all that weird stuff you eat.” No one actually prefers to have their burgers with lettuce instead of a bun. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not weird stuff! Come on Michelle, you’re a medical professional, you know how important healthy eating is.” As she does every time he brings this up, she rolls her eyes. “It’s blue, by the way. My favorite colour.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re such a blue guy.” She chuckles, as if he’s supposed to understand what that means. Blue is hardly a personality trait, he just happens to like the colour more than other colours. But he’s missed her so much, he daren’t question it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he takes her to the living room, she settles in much more relaxed than before, leaning back on the sofa,one arm propped up on the back of it. She looks like she’s just moments away from toeing off her boots, and tucking her feet underneath her. Which is why he stands in the middle of the room for a moment, frozen. She looks at him as though she’s expecting him to say something, or sit next to her. So he chooses to sit, not entirely sure how to talk to her when she looks like this. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This has been really nice Owen.” She tells him, swirling her glass lightly in her hand. “Really, really nice.” He isn’t sure what she is trying to say exactly, but her eyes on his prevent him from saying anything at all. "I'm really glad I came. I missed you." She admits, flicking her eyes to the floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I missed you too." Finally he can speak again. "You're one of my best friends, I didn't like not being your friend." She takes a long sip from her glass, before setting it down on the floor and leaning back in the sofa. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Just because I take your teasing better than Judd…" She scoffs. Judd can't take a joke, especially about his cowboy-like tendencies. "I've spent the past two weeks being angry at you, when it would have been better for everyone to just talk to you." She screws up her nose. "Let's never do that again."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, never again." He agrees, his arm coming up to rest on the back of the sofa alongside hers. His forearm brushes lightly against hers, and both of them jump slightly. Suddenly, it all comes together and he can't avoid it. She's in front of him, beautiful, bright, intoxicating. And he's been thinking about this all week. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm really sorry if I'm wrong about this." He lifts a hand, slipping it under her hair to rest on the back of her neck. She breathes in sharply, eyes snapping up to his, before flickering around his face. "Tell me to stop." He almost pleads, because he isn't sure she wants him to do this, and after this week, he isn't sure he wants to do it himself. But he couldn't possibly want to do anything else, more than he wants to do this in this moment.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn't tell him to stop. Instead, her eyes settle on his mouth for a moment, before they go back to his with a shake of her head. "I can't." She admits, leaning towards him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His thumb brushes her cheek as he closes the distance. He understands perfectly what she meant, knows what she meant when she'd told him how this was supposed to happen. About the earth shattering. About time stopping. And when she lifts a hand to his cheek, and he lets his arm slip around her waist, he feels the world lurch, feels it rise and fall with her breath. Her soft sigh roots into him, making his own breath stutter. Her free hand comes to rest on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly as he pulls her closer. She nips at his lip, her finger trailing the curve of his ear, and he pulls back slightly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Time stopping." He whispers, studying her face. She nods slowly, eyes fixed on his. And then she's kissing him with everything that she has, as though this past two weeks they've been on a cliff, and if she kisses him deeper something will tip them over an edge they will never climb back from. And he supposes that is true. There is now way they could have made it back to how things were before. As he buries his hand in her hair he sees the last two weeks tear away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her leg travels upwards to curl against his side, not quite hooking around it. She starts to giggle into his mouth. "Sorry." She laughs. "I just realised I don't want to ruin your couch." He pulls away in a panic, even as she leans towards him again. He places a hand on her shoulder, holding her back. She has to know that they can't do anything that </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> ruin his couch. Like have sex on it. That would be a bad idea. She rolls her eyes with a chuckle at his resistance, before reaching down to unzip her boots. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh." He whispers under his breath, realising what she meant. He probably should have realised that she didn’t mean...what he thought she meant. That nothing like that would happen tonight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re such a neat freak.” She laughs. “I know that would have bothered you.” she could have stood on the couch in her boots, and he really wouldn’t have minded. So he kisses her again to let her know that. She smiles against his mouth, her leg now coming up to hook around his waist properly. The skirt of her dress rides up to her thigh as she does so, and Owen can't help but trail a hand down to rest on her exposed calf.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shivers against him, chuckling before gripping his shoulder tightly, moving his back against the back of the couch. She lifts herself up to straddle his waist, and he stops breathing for a second as she overs over him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How he didn't spend all of his time like this before, with her smiling down at him, he'll never know. "Wow." He stammers. "You're...wow." She rolls her eyes with a grin, leaning down to capture his lips with hers, her back arching under his hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You shouldn't talk." She chuckles into his ear as his lips brush her neck. "You're terrible at it." She laughs at him again, and he finds her pulse point, sucking on it lightly. "Owen." She gasps against his ear, her grip on his shoulders tightening. "Take me upstairs." He pulls away the moment she says it. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>"U...upstairs?" He stutters. "Michelle I don't… I'm not sure that's…" It's not a good idea. Not after the last two weeks, and everything that has happened. So he watches Michelle's shoulders curl with her frown. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Please Owen." She whispers, a hand stroking his cheek. "Take me upstairs."  She watches him intently as he weighs his options, trying to decide if this is as terrible an idea as he thinks it is. She makes the decision for him. Standing from the sofa, she takes his hand and tugs. "Take me upstairs." She repeats. So he does. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Or rather, she takes him upstairs. The only thing he does is make sure she gets the right room. And then she's pulling him inside, and he's pushed down onto the bed. "Michelle I really don't think this is…" He tries again, even as his hand grabs at her hip, pulling her closer. He keeps kissing her. He doesn't stop what he's been doing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It is." She assures him, even though she should really know better. She does know better. "Don't tell me this isn't why you have fresh sheets?" She smirks at him. And he can't, because now he's not so sure that it isn't the reason. So he slips his hands under her skirt, trailing his fingers at her thighs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She brings her hands to his chest, fiddling with his buttons as she plants a series of kisses to the side of his neck. "Michelle…" he gasps when she finishes with the buttons, opening his shirt and sweeping her hands along his sides, circling around his waist.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Tell me to stop." She echoes his words from earlier, this time with a smirk. For a moment he can't. But then she brings her hands around to work on the buckle of his belt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Stop." He sighs, even himself disappointed. "We have to stop." He takes her hand in his when she pulls it away. "I'm sorry." He looks into disappointed eyes. "We can't finish this. I don't have anything here."  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh." She whispers, pulling away from him, rolling off to sit on the bed beside him. He watches her arrange her dress over her legs, and start to fiddle with the fabric. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's not that I don't want to." He starts and she shakes her head, waving him off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's fine Owen." She assures him. "Besides, it wasn't a good idea… I'm sorry." She directs the end of her sentence to her hands. "I shouldn't have tried to… I'm sorry." She launches herself off of the bed. "I should go." She blurts abruptly. "I should go, I'm sorry Owen."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Michelle." He follows her, catching her wrist as she opens the bedroom door. "You don't have to be sorry." He whispers. "And you don't have to go." He brushes his lips against her hairline. "Not if you don't want to."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You don't want me to?" She won't look at him, she keeps her eyes focused on the door handle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why would I want you to leave?" He can't imagine wanting that, not after a night like tonight. "I don't want you to leave."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"But...we…" She huffs, as if the issue is obvious. "If we can't finish what we started...why would you want me to stay?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Michelle… I want you to stay because I had a good night, and I don't want it to be over." He whispers to her hair. "Because I want to keep talking to you. I want to keep kissing you. Just because we're not having sex doesn't mean I want you to leave." She doesn't look like she believes him. So lifts her chin so she's facing him, and kisses her softly. "I want you to stay."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay." She smiles weakly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Come back downstairs." He suggests. "We can pretend to watch TV? I don't have coffee, but I could steal TK's hot chocolate." Because of course he wouldn't have any of his own. "I promise he won't be mad." He winks at her smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay." She nods softly, and she lets him take her by the hand down the stairs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Xxx</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wakes on the sofa, Owen’s arm clinging firmly to her waist. She allows herself to stay for a moment, settling her head on his chest, before she realises they have work today, and she has no idea of the time. Cracking her eyes open, she spots daylight behind his curtains, and she bolts upright. “Owen!” She hisses, shaking his arms off her. “Owen, wake up!” She rummages around the room for her bag. “Why the hell don’t you have clocks in here?” She hisses again, taking note of the artwork on the walls.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” Owen mumbles, not fully awake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We fell asleep on the sofa.” She begins, finally finding her bag tucked under the coffee table. “We have work. And I don’t know what time it is.” He bolts up as she digs her phone out of her bag. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The several missed calls and messages from Carlos are the least of her worries when she notices the time on the screen. “Shit.” She drops the phone. “Fuck.” She has thirty minutes before she’s supposed to be at work. Which is barely enough time to get there directly from here, let alone to go home and change. “We’re gonna be late.” She panics, grabbing her boots from beside the sofa. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck.” Owen groans, checking his own phone. “I guess I’ll shower at work.” He cracks his neck, rolling stiffness out of his shoulders. “I’m too old to be sleeping on the couch.” He sighs, pushing himself up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“At least you have a chance of being on time.” She points out, zipping her boots. “I’m gonna be late as well as unshowered.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have a uniform at work?” He calls from the stairs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course I do.” She grabs her bag. “But I can’t show up to work looking like this.” He pads back down the stairs to look at her, watching as she straightens her hair in the mirror. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why not? You look beautiful.” He watches the blush creep up her neck while she gives up on getting her bangs to settle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I look like I’m on a date. I can’t show up to work looking like I’m coming from a date.” She swipes a finger under her eyes, dusting off last night’s residual mascara. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ll be fine, no one will even notice.” He assures her, reentering the living room. She nods twice, before making her way to the door. “Hey, wait.” He catches her wrist as she passes him, pulling her to face him. “I’ll see you at work.” He smiles at her, before kissing her soundly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He decides to shower before he leaves. So when he shows up to work, already showered and dressed, she’s there, leaning against the ambulance with a cup of coffee, just like always. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So nice of you to join us Captain.” She grins. He’s only ten minutes late, and otherwise no one would really have noticed, but she invites the entire crew to make fun of him for it. And it feels so like the old family they had that he can’t help but relish it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So I take it last night went well?” TK asks, leaning against the door of his office. “It better have, because Carlos spent all of last night checking his phone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Owen nods. “It went really well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thought so.” TK grins. “Cos Michelle came in wearing the same thing as when she was a Carlos’s last night.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing like that happened.” Owen assures him, knowing that whatever he says will make its way back to Carlos. “Well… maybe a little. But really? No. We fell asleep watching TV.” There’s no need to defend himself to TK, but he wants him to know that he didn’t do anything stupid. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you two patched things up Dad.” TK claps him on the shoulder, before leaving him in the office alone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With how smoothly the day runs, Owen couldn’t be gladder they patched things up. And seeing her lean against his door frame when the day quietens down, just like she used to, makes his heart soar. “Quite a day huh?” He asks over his paperwork. “Never a dull moment in Texas.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well I know you didn’t move down here to ride horses.” She winks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The smile on her lips falters when he starts talking. “I wanted to talk to you.” Noticing her frown, he rushes to correct himself. “Not like… I was thinking. About last night.” Her frown only deepens, and he notices her clench her fists. “I think we should wait. To you know… I mean I think we should take things slow...date, I think we should date….before we do anything else.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her frown turns into a blush, and the tiniest of hidden smiles. “Okay.” She nods. “I’d like that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Great.” He lets out a relieved sigh. “Great. That’s really great.” She watches her smiling at him in the doorway, and curses his decision to have glass walls in his office. Because he would like nothing more than to kiss her right now. Probably pick her up and spin her around like in a movie. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So I guess it's my turn then?" She smiles. "To plan a date."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Last night was an apology dinner." He clarifies. "I never called it a date." But she did, this morning. Which had taken over his whole mind all day. "I would very much like to take you on something that I know is a date."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because if he knows it's a date, it'll be even better than last night. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay then." She nods, making to turn out of the office. "I'll look forward to it." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He waits until she's alone, in a place no one will see, before cornering her. "I hate the glass walls." He admits, kissing her on the cheek. "I wanted to kiss you earlier. But I couldn't. Because of the damn walls." It's not that he wants to be secretive, but the team has seen way too much of their relationship in the past few weeks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well there's no glass walls here." She snakes a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. It isn't until she hears Judd's heavy footsteps that she pulls away with a grin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I think dinner is ready Captain." He tells her, before Judd rounds the corner to tell them the same thing.  She slips away, nodding. She smiles at Judd as she passes him, leaving him and Owen alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dinner’s ready Cap.” Judd tells him, somewhat stiffly. Just as Owen passes him, Judd grabs his arm, gripping it tightly. “Look Cap, I don’t know what you’re doing with her, I don’t know what happened to make everything suddenly okay. But I just want you to know. I’ve known Michelle for a lot longer than I’ve known you. And she’s been my family for a lot longer than you have.” Judd eyes him steadily. “So if you screw it up again, if you hurt her again, I’m gonna kill you in ways you haven’t even heard of.” As bizarre as the threat is, Owen is sure that Judd means every word  completely. So he nods slowly, gulping, before Judd claps him on the shoulder. “Good luck, Cap.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not gonna screw it up.” Owen promises on their way to the kitchen. “Not this time.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm gonna hold you to that." Judd assures them as they enter the kitchen. When Owen slips into the empty seat next to Michelle no one says a thing. But they all eye them with a smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Xxx</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He takes her out for dinner, to a fancy little restaurant that Carlos tells him she's always wanted to try but never had a good excuse. He watches her sparkle at him across the table, her flushed laughter twinkling around the restaurant as they relive the week's work. It's a strange conversation to laugh about,  and he really hopes that the surrounding tables can't hear what she's laughing about. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because if they heard her laughing at a guy who burned his eyebrows off they would probably get kicked out. But he just watches as she giggles across the table. It's his favourite thing, actually, seeing her laugh. She didn't smile the first few months he knew her. Not really. Not the full, crinkling eyes, bright smile she has now, that isn't dimmed by exhaustion and guilt. Her hands don't tense while she does it anymore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So if she wants to laugh at some poor soul who failed miserably at barbecuing, he's not going to stop her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After dinner, he lets her direct him to a bar. "It's not the Honky Tonk." She promises. "Not even close." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's not close. Not geographically, not in any way that a bar could resemble the Honky Tonk, apart from being a bar. "Not everywhere in Texas is cowboy hats and flannel." She reminds him, at his dazed expression. "We can be chic." She nudges. "We can be cool." She likes to make fun of his non-Texan ways. And as she drags him inside, he decides that she can make fun of him all she wants if he gets to see her like this. Her long floral dress no longer out of place against jean shorts and plaid, but comfortable in its surrounding of others, who could never pull it off like Michelle does. She pulls her hair back, out of her face, turning to tug him towards a dancefloor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I haven't been here in months." She explains. "I spent all my free nights at the Honky Tonk since you guys came to town."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn't point out that the Honky Tonk had been her idea, her welcome suggestion that was just a thinly veiled attempt at putting them all in their non-Texan places. He just nods, pulling her close to him to dance. He's a lot more comfortable with this dancing than anything a person could do at the Honky Tonk.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I wanted to bring you here." She starts. "As a kind of "get to know Michelle" tour. The Honky Tonk isn't really my scene, I just brought you there because I knew you'd fit in even less than I do."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So hipster, folksy, jazz is your scene?" It's so her scene he could burst out laughing. It's so her scene he doesn't want to be anywhere else.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Laugh all you want." She nudges him, before gesturing around the bar. "This is what you're getting yourself into." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I love it." He admits, pulling her in for a kiss on the dance floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Xxxx</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s almost two months of kisses on porches, and the occasional sofa makeout, before he invites her inside with a pointed promise. “TK is with Carlos.” He tells her, eyes focused on hers. TK is always with Carlos, but he can’t think of a better way to invite her in. The smile quirking on her lips while she nods tells him that she understands perfectly, and she laces her fingers with his as he opens the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pauses in the hallway when the door closes, unsure now how to behave. So she tugs on his hand, leading him silently up the stairs with a soft smile. She stops just inside his bedroom door, dropping her bag and toeing off her shoes. He’s still standing in the doorway when she turns around. “Are you sure about this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” He assures her, stepping into the room. “Are you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” She nods shakily, suddenly less sure than she was downstairs. “I won’t lie to you, I’m a little nervous.” She chuckles, smiling at him softly. “But I’m sure I want to.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” He steps in front of her, his hand reaching up to snake around the back of  her neck. “Me too.” He pauses for a second, taking a breath, before he kisses her. The hand on her neck tightens, his fingers curling into her hair while she reaches up to cup his cheek. His free arm, which has circled around her waist, pulls her in, and she lifts a hand to his bicep with a smile. “I’m more than a little nervous.” He admits, pulling away, his thumb stoking softly at the nape of her neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t say anything, just smiles at him for a moment, nodding. Her hand strokes  along his cheek, before curling around the back of his head as she leans up to kiss him. It’s understanding, soft, and oh so intense that Owen has to restrain himself from pushing it too far. Her fingers slip under the sleeve of his shirt, tickling at his shoulder, before she pulls her hand out, moving it upwards, and back down his chest to rest at his waist. . </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He lets her lead, desperate not to ruin the pace she wants to set. He would be content to stand here kissing her until the end of time if that's what she wanted to do. But he is also desperate for the moment that she moves her hands to undo the buttons of his shirt. When that moment comes, his hands drop to her hips, stilling as he watches her concentrate. She dips her hands between the open buttons, her fingers trailing lightly on his sides as he struggles to catch his breath. “Owen.” She looks him in the eye, smiling at his dazed expression. “Please.” She kisses him, her hands trailing up to push the shirt off his shoulders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He takes her request as one to return the favour, letting his hands reach for the tie of her dress at her waist. His fingers fumble at the buttons, the silk of them slipping through his fingers. With a chuckle, she moves her hands to help, and the dress falls open at her sides. “Wow.” He whispers, taking in the sight of her, standing in the middle of his bedroom, like some kind of half-dressed goddess, before cupping her face in his hands, kissing her soundly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her dress joins his shirt on the floor, and she moves him to the bed, pushing him down gently. She straddles his hips, pushing him to lie down with a grin. “Well Captain Strand, I do hope you make this one worth the wait.” She chuckles, and he flushes at her joke. She trails her fingernails down his chest and his breath shakes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I intend to.” He assures her, pulling her towards him. He kisses her hard, grinning as she squeaks against him, before he trails a line of kisses down her throat. She braces herself on the mattress above his head, breathing out a sigh as her free hand scratches at the back of his raised head. His light touch on her back sends shocks right down her spine, and her shiver emits a chuckle from Owen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His chuckle turns to a yelp when she wrenches herself away, pinning his shoulders to the bed before kissing him fiercely. It’s her turn to kiss his neck, nipping at his pulse point as he lets out what sounds suspiciously like a whimper. Her hand trailing down his stomach doesn’t do anything to steady his shaking breath, and he lets out a pleading whisper. “Michelle.” She pulls away mercifully, giving him a quick peck on the lips, before reaching up her back to unclasp her bra. He can’t even watch, her eyes keeping his from wandering while he holds his breath, as she pushes the straps down her soldiers agonizingly slowly. Her spell is broken when she turns to drop the garment on the floor behind her. And then she’s just there on top of him, in nothing but her underwear, and she looks so damn comfortable Owen has no choice but to pull her down towards him, giving her a single kiss on the forehead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Quickly though, he flips her underneath him, causing her to let out a giggled yelp. He kisses her softly, his hand trailing from her cheek, down her neck, and finally slowing to a stop, his fingers trailing the underside of her breast, before moving upwards again to trail lightly around her nipple. She squirms slightly, arching arching into his touch with a sigh. He pinches, rolling it between his fingers, and she wrenches away from his mouth with a gasp, giving him the perfect opportunity to kiss down her neck. He stops briefly at her collarbone, trailing his tongue along it slowly, before dipping down to give her other nipple the attention it deserves. Her eyes screw shut as he circles her nipple with his tongue, flicking it softly. Her deep sigh is cut off by a gasp as he blows on her nipple, the cool air causing her to jolt beneath him.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Owen." She breathes, head pressed hard into the mattress, hips squirming. He hums around her nipple, smiling at her whimpers as he continues to roll the other between his fingers, pinching it lightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pulls at her nipple with his teeth, resulting in a desperate whine as her back arches against him. While he smiles against her,  her hands reach for his jeans, pushing at them helplessly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He obliges her request, standing from the bed to remove them, unable to look away from where she lies, chest heaving, on his bed. Her dark eyes smile at him hungrily, even as her legs curl up in modesty, and his chest tightens. He doesn't miss her eyes flicking towards his erection, before snapping back to his face. She props herself up on her elbows when he moves back towards the bed, gazing at him questioningly when he sits himself on the edge instead of returning to his previous position. She tenses as his hand brushes her stomach, falling across her waist. "I don't deserve you Michelle." He whispers, his eyes burning into her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Maybe not." She agrees, smiling up at him. "But you have me." She reaches over to curl a hand around his neck, pulling in for a kiss as his hand travels to cup her backside, fingers trailing the line of her panties. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stands again, eliciting a whimper from Michelle. The view from the foot of the bed may be even better than from the side. She pulls herself up to the headboard with wide eyes, the tiniest of smiles playing at her lips as she realizes his intention. He trails the edge of her panties again, and at her slight nod he hooks his fingers into them, tugging them ever so slowly down her thighs. Her heavy breathing is all he can hear, and his stomach flips when she curls her knees to help him remove her underwear. She keeps her legs curled to the side when he looks down at her, only parting them when he settles on the bed, running a hand along her thigh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> He keeps his eyes on hers when he parts her legs, watching as they drift shut when he trails the back of his fingers over her. She squirms against his light touch, and he allows himself to go further, stop teasing them both. He explores her briefly, watching her forehead crease when his fingertip circles her clit. She worries her lip between her teeth as he circles it, her breath hitching. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She releases her lip with a gasp when he slips a finger into her, her eyes flickering open only briefly before he curls his finger, and they are shut again with a groan. He watches her smile when he adds a finger, watches her fists curl up as she sighs. "Michelle." He turns his hand, brushing his thumb against her clit. "Look at me."  She obliges, letting out a tight whine at the movement of his fingers. He crooks his fingers, and watches her eyes roll back before she drops her head. In the next moment, she whimpers again, allowing herself to lower her back to the bed. Her fingertips grasp desperately at the bed sheets as he works his fingers in and out of her, and she finally rewards his efforts with a throaty moan. She gives him another, though far less satisfied, when he removes her hand, trailing wet fingertips along the top of her thigh as she huffs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He leans down, kissing her softly, smiling as she attempts to squirm against his hand, before setting himself between her legs. She props herself up again, watching as he parts her thighs further. She grasps the bedsheets in anticipation as he hovers there, smirking slightly at her tension.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He trails his tongue along her slowly, softly, and her tension leaves her with a moan. The sharp flick of his tongue on her clit makes her jerk under him, and he chuckles against her. He slips his arms under her thighs, wrapping them both, holding her still. This time, he stays soft, his tongue exploring her oh so slowly. She lets herself relax into it, the arch of her back falling, her thighs softening under his hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He circles her clit with a grin, his eyes flicking up to watch her fist at the bedsheets as he quickens his pace. He starts to flick his tongue against her, rewarded with a strangled whine as she jerks beneath him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a final soft lick to her clit, he travels lower, his tongue probing at her entrance. "Jesus fuck." She whispers as his tongue dips into her, and she allows herself to grind against it. Suddenly, her hand is in his hair, scratching at his scalp as she holds him in place. The scratching of her fingernails causes him to moan against her, drawing a throaty chuckle from Michelle. He hears her breathe out a swear above him while he continues his ministrations, pausing briefly every now and then, only to smile against her while she whines, tugging at his hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He releases one of her thighs, making sure to drag his fingers along her thigh lightly enough to make her shudder. Her grip on his hair proves weaker than he thought, giving way immediately when he pulls away from her. Dragging his fingertips up her inner thigh, he watches as her leg trembles. His fingers enter her easily, crooking upwards as his lips close around her clit. The sounds she responds with are nothing short of filthy, and he can't help but moan around her, his head caught up in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything </span>
  </em>
  <span>of this moment. He quickens his pace, relentless as she moans above him, swearing, pleading, praying. Until suddenly she grabs his wrist and wriggles away from him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She kneels up on shaky thighs, smirking as she reaches for the waistband of his boxers. She toys with it for a moment, before her eyes twinkle and she moves her hand down the front instead, grasping him through the fabric. She bites her lip as she strokes the length of him, head cocking as she smirks at him knowingly. He lets out a shaky groan, hips jutting beneath her touch. He watches as she strokes him, kneading her lip between her teeth in dazed concentration, and he lets out an unbidden whine. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It sends a shock of heat down her spine, and she tugs at the waistband of his boxers. His strangled groan at her fingertips against his bare erection makes her grin, kissing him lightly as she teases him. "Please Michelle." He whispers against her lips, and she has no choice but to nod, releasing him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She lies back while he reaches in his drawer. She bites at her lip with a grin, her hand travelling downwards as she watches him. She strokes herself slowly, fingers circling her clit, and just as he turns back to her, she looks him in the eye, slipping a finger into herself with a fluttering breath. She smiles at his heavy swallow, reaching up to kiss him, pulling him to her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He keeps a hand on her cheek as he positions himself, and at his questioning gaze, she turns her head into it, pressing a kiss to the palm, nodding. He enters her slowly, hesitant at her shuddering breath. It's a moment of nothing but breath before she nods slowly, asking him to move. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He watches her face as he does so, relishing each new silent expression, until she lets out a choked groan, his eyes flutter shut for a moment. She keeps her eyes shut, smiling slightly, as he moves in her slowly. Her gentle moans pulling from her throat, washing deliciously down his back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hand smooths along her thigh, and her hand tightens on his bicep as she rolls her hips, spurring him to move faster. Her eyes snap open as he presses his forehead to hers briefly, and then their eyes are locked. His hand curls into her hair, the soft tug eliciting a needy whimper.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pulls her leg to hook higher on his back, thrusting deeper into her with a deliberate movement. She moans with a wide grin, rolling her hips. "Owen." She breathes, begging him to return to his rhythm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rhythm he takes up instead is quicker, harder, and she clings to his back, arm hooked around his shoulder. She cries out sharply, clenching around him as she scratches on his back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her head falls to the side, and he buries her face in the crook of her neck. His breath in her ear, ragged and desperate, sends shocks through her limbs and she arches against him. "Owen...I.." she tries, her chest tightening, and she gasps out a laboured breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knows what she means, and he nods against her neck, sucking on her pulse point, his hand slipping between them to brush at her clit. And she snaps with a cry, head thrown back as she clings desperately to his shoulders. He follows her with a shudder, groaning in her ear as she trembles beneath him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She trails her fingers softly on his back as he catches his breath, before pushing himself upwards. He kisses her slowly as he pulls out of her, her hips jerking beneath him. He presses a kiss to her cheek before he rolls to lie beside her, stopping only for a moment, and turning again to toss his condom in the  trashcan. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he turns back to her, she is lounging lazily, her arm tucked under her head. She reaches her free hand over to stroke his cheek. "Worth it." She smiles at him. </span>
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